25 Days of Holiday Drabbles: Castle Style
by OneDream 2Dream
Summary: This Christmas has the opportunity to be the best one yet... if Castle doesn't accidentally burn the apartment down first. A chapter posted a day until Christmas.
1. Day 1

**Day 1**

**Author's Note: I can't believe I'm doing this again, but I guess it's become a holiday tradition. Anyways, this is another one of those publish-a-chapter-every-day-until-Christmas holiday stories. I started doing 25 Days of Holiday Drabbles back in 2010 (has it been that long?) when I was in the Sonny With a Chance fandom. It happened again the next year, this time when I was writing for Gakuen Alice. And now because I can't stop, I'm making one for Castle. So without further ado, I introduce you to 25 Days of Holiday Drabbles: Castle Style.**

**Spoiler Warning: SPOILERS FOR SECRET SANTA PROMO. Consider this some sort of speculation.**

**Disclaimer: I actually really love doing these, and somehow manage to find time for them. Do you really think I could manage this and own Castle? Nope.**

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She expected the loft to be decorated.

But seeing it in person- the lights, the decorations, and the gorgeous, gorgeous tree- it's all so beautiful. She knows she made the right choice when deciding to spend Christmas with them.

Her partner beams at her, his face polka-dotted from the white lights. "I assume you like it?" he asks, taking her coat as she shrugs it off her shoulders.

"I don't know, Castle. You have yet to hang decorations from the ceiling," the brunette teases, coyly pushing hair out of her eyes.

Chuckling, he hangs her coat on the hanger. "I tried. Alexis stopped me, though." He then motions for her to come in, taking her hand as she walks past him to examine the brightly lit tree.

Beckett nods, distracted. "Where is she, anyways?" the detective asks, fiddling with a tiny silver train ornament.

"Holiday party. Mother's at one too. They spent all morning commenting about how exciting the whole ordeal would be," he comments, shaking his head with amusement.

She nods again, biting her lip. "Would you normally be at a party at this time of year?"

"Maybe, maybe not," he explains. "Why?"

Beckett shrugs passively. "I just don't want to be messing anything up, that's all," she utters casually, trying to take a step away before realizing that he still has a grip on her hand.

He tits his head ever so slightly, looking her in the eyes with a soft smile on his face. "I promise you're not messing anything up. Why don't you believe that?" he asks. She notices that he doesn't sound accusatory. He sounds more… worried?

"It's nothing."

Frowning, he comments, "I still want to know."

They stay in the middle of his living room, alone. She stands in front of him, angled towards the door as he desperately grips her hand.

He still thinks she doesn't want to be here.

Unhappy with herself, Beckett turns to him and mutters, "I just don't want to push myself into your life."

Sighing with relief, he shakes his head. "You're not pushing yourself into my life. I invited you over. I want you here, and so do Alexis and Mother. Alright?"

She swallows. "But…"

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he tugs her closer until their chests are nearly touching. His warm breath warms her skin, still chilly from the cold December air. "I don't want to spend my night or my Christmas anywhere else. I don't love parties or nosy reporters or random tipsy women. I love you," he utters quietly, his fingers rubbing circles on her back.

She beams, eyes focused on the pattern of the carpet. "I love you, too," Beckett murmurs.

"What?" he teases, gently turning her head so he can see her eyes.

"I love you, too. So much."

He captures her lips with his own, kissing deeper when she presses herself flush against him, her hands tangling in his hair. She's hungry for him. She loves him. She loves him.

And now he knows.


	2. Day 2

**Day 2**

**Author's Note: Not all of the drabbles will be Caskett, by the way.**

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It's almost midnight by the time he gets home, the dim light of the hallway shining into the living room as he kicks off his shoes. He doesn't notice her until he's halfway to the kitchen, shaking a bit of snow out of his hair.

"Hey," she greets, comfortably sitting on the couch. "Tough day at work?"

Kevin shrugs, filling cups of water for the both of them before heading to the couch. "We found the guy who did it, which was good. Got the case wrapped up before Christmas, at least," he responds, pleased.

Nodding, she takes a sip from her glass. "So what exactly are we doing tomorrow?" Jenny asks, glancing at the tree. "I know you mentioned something about visiting your family, but with the uncertainty of the case I didn't know if we were still going to go."

"I told my dad that we were planning on making it, if that's okay with you."

She nods, giving them a moment of silence. Suddenly, she asks, "What was your favorite tradition as a kid?" she ponders, turning back to him.

"I've told you before," he teases, eyes crinkling with a smile.

She grins back. "I know you've told me a bunch of them, but you never told me your favorite."

He thinks for a minute, somewhat oblivious to his wife watching him closely. "I think my favorite was baking cookies the day before Christmas Eve with my Grandma. She had an amazing gingerbread cookie recipe. Then we'd leave some out for Santa and save the rest for when the entire family came over on Christmas Day. You?"

"It'd probably have to be when we decorated the tree. My parents would dance around to Christmas carols and hand out ornaments as my siblings and I decorated the tree." When she hears Kevin chuckle, she adds, "It was weird, yes, but it was Christmas to me."

Laughing, he responds, "I never said anything about it. I actually think it's cute. I can definitely see a smaller version of you dancing around a Christmas tree."

The image flashes through her head as well, but slightly different. Instead of her and her parents, it's her and Kevin handing off ornaments to two children, making faces at them to get them to laugh.

"Do you think we could do that with our kids someday?" she questions, judging his reaction.

He looks surprised, but not against the idea. "Sure, I think they'd like it," he responds. They'd talked about children many times before, discussing the fact that maybe they'd want to have one sometime the next year. They were ready.

Casually, she asks, "What time is it?"

Her husband looks at his watch. "Two after midnight, why?"

She smiles, pressing a finger to her lips when it looks like he's about to ask what she's doing. Then she retrieves a small, colorfully wrapped present from under their tiny Christmas tree. He watches as she makes his way back over to him, placing the box on his lap.

"What's this?" he ponders, pulling at the curly ribbon on top.

"You'll see."

"And I should open this now?"

Nervously, she replies, "That's why I gave you it."

Swiftly, he pulls the wrapping off and molds it into a ball, throwing it in the direction of the trash. When opening the box, his breath gets taken away as he pulls out the tiny shirt out of the box. "Are you?" he asks silently, eyes wide and bright.

"He or she will have an NYPD shirt, just like his daddy," she tells him quietly, watching his gleeful reaction and nodding. "Merry Christmas."

Pulling her into a hug, he laughs and kisses her forehead, moving down to her lips. "We're going to be parents," he whispers incredulously.

"I'm surprised too," she states, remembering the day she found out. So many emotions ran through her head, the majority of them gleeful.

"Just… wow." he says, still unbelieving. "I'm going to be a father."

"You are."

He blinks furiously, eyes slightly teary. "This completely makes up for the difficult case," Kevin utters, arms still wrapped securely around his wife and the mother of their child.

Giggling, she responds, "I sure would hope so."


	3. Day 3

**Day 3**

**Author's Note: NO Secret Santa spoilers. And I'm two minutes late, today. Boo.**

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He spends the entire day browsing on his phone, eyes focused not on her as normal, but on the small screen in his hands. She doesn't mind it, not really. After all, it's been a slow day so far, and her and the boys have mostly been killing time.

Yet she misses his eyes watching her every move, his hands playing with things on her desk or trying to casually grab hers.

She's surprised he's not excited by the decorations going up all around. They glisten and gleam, even in the dull precinct lights. Gates seems to be getting in the spirit as well, placing a small tree on a table in the corner of the office. Yet he sits there, completely involved with his phone.

Okay, so maybe she does mind it a bit.

"What are you looking at that has you so entranced?" She asks, peering over his shoulder to see.

Quickly, he pulls away. "Nothing," the writer comments suspiciously, pressing the home button.

She sighs, knowing it's useless. "Okay, sure. Well, I'm going to get some coffee. Want some?" she asks, brushing her hair out of her hair.

He nods, eyes glued back on the phone. "Yeah, thanks."

She wanders into the break room, thankful that Ryan had already prepared some. Taking their reserved mugs, the brunette pours two steaming hot cups of caffeine and makes her way back to her desk.

"Here you go," she tells him, placing the cup in his outstretched hand.

He accepts it and takes a sip. "You're the best," he whispers, smiling. But he still goes back to his phone.

Deciding that didn't work, she glances around the bullpen for another thing to do that Castle might like as well. The answer isn't obvious until she notices Esposito and Ryan casually making comments about the oddly named "holiday bush", as they like to call it.

She nods her head towards the break room and the tree. "I'm going to go see if there's anyone decorating the bush," the detective comments.

Turns out, the bush isn't quite decorated, but isn't bare either. There's a string of lights wrapped tastefully all around, and a star is placed on top. Yet, there are no ornaments. She wonders if it's because Gates wants to make the place as neutral as possible or if there just are none.

Annoyed, she lurks in the room until she finally spots a large brown box. Pulling it out from under the couch, she opens it carefully. Inside are various colorful ornaments in ball shapes, candy canes, and even a few apples. (She's quite curious about where those came from.)

Carefully, she pulls out a candy cane and places it on a branch. Then she picks up a ball and places one on a lower branch. The process continues as she pulls objects out of the box and remembers how she used to love to do this as a child.

She's not quite sure how she spends in there, but eventually Castle comes in looking for her. "Hey, what are you doing?" he asks, sneaking up behind her to place an apple on the tree with a suggestive grin.

"Decorating the bush. What does it look like?" she asks, still a bit frustrated with him but trying not to seem clingy.

He nods. "Oh, okay. Well, I should get back to-" he starts, heading out the door.

She grabs his arm, moving to meet him in the doorway. "Wait, what are you-"

Suddenly, she notices Ryan staring at them. "What?" they both ask, watching as he nods up above the doorway.

They're standing under the mistletoe.

"I-um-" she stumbles, still standing in the doorway with his hand in hers.

Esposito grins. "Come on, guys, the captain is away and everyone knows you want to."

Ryan smirks as well. "Yeah, guys, follow the tradition!" he teases.

By this time, the whole bullpen is staring at them. She sighs. "You know what? Fine." And then she presses her lips to his, quickly yet passionately. Her boyfriend seems shocked, but responds quickly, not unhappy with the situation.

They stand there for a minute after the kiss, unsure of what to do about their cheering colleagues. Suddenly, they hear someone their their throat. Next to them stands Gates.

"Detective Beckett, Mr. Castle, my office, please?" She commands, gesturing away from the doorway.

Beckett glares at Ryan, who puts up his hands in surrender. Castle merely sighs and states, "Well, we're screwed."

The female detective groans. "Tell me about it. What were you doing on your phone, anyways?"

He smirks, shaking his head. "Cyber Monday shopping, of course."

She should have known.


	4. Day 4

**Day 4**

**Author's Note: It was in the low 60's today. So I wrote about snow. Normal.**

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Children frolic in the fluffy, white powder, spinning around and trying to catch snow on their tongues. Their parents watch from the sidelines, bundled up in boots, scarves, hats, heavy coats, and anything else remotely warm.

Others wander on the paths, taking in the beautiful sight. Couples nestle together, keeping each other warm while workers try not to get their nice clothes wet during their little detour.

"Why can't we walk through the park? With the crosswalks and the crowds on the main roads, it won't take more than a couple minutes longer to get to the loft," a man reasons, holding onto his girlfriend's hand.

She shakes her head, trying to hold back a smile. "I don't know..." the brunette teases, bumping her shoulder against his.

Becoming restless, he asks, "So we're walking through the park?"

"We're already covered in snow. Why not enjoy it?"

They make their way along the sidewalk, cuddled together like most of the other couples, their black coats meshing together. He tries to catch a snowflake; she just rolls her eyes and grins, occasionally pushing snowflakes out of his hair.

About halfway through the park, the man stops and makes his way towards a giant snow pile. The woman glances at him suspiciously, eyeing him as he grabs a large chunk of snow in his gloves and forms it into a ball. "Castle, what are you doing?" she asks, moving her hands to somewhat block her face.

"Alexis and I used to have snowball fights all the time," he remembers, tossing the ball back and forth. "The giant mounds reminded me of that. You want to have one?"

She bites her lip, looking around. "We're not five," the brunette scolds unconvincingly.

He attempts a puppy dog face. "Please, Beckett? There's no one around. It's not like we'll hit anyone."

Giving in, Beckett backs up slowly. "Fine. Just give me some time to get ammunition."

"Sure, sure. Wouldn't want it to be unfair."

Unimpressed with his somewhat sarcastic tone, she gives him a look as she shapes the fluffy snow into a dense ball. "Just say when," she responds.

Castle poses, ready for battle. "One, two, three, go!"

She dodges the first one he throws easily, yet misses him by a good couple of inches. Quickly, she makes another and tosses it in his general direction, laughing as he ducks dramatically to avoid the ball. Swiftly, he returns the favor with a shot that goes awfully close to her arm but misses.

"Damn," he mutters, scooping up more snow.

"Don't say bad words in the park," she scolds, aiming for his chest but missing.

Castle raises an eyebrow this time, inching closer. "Protecting the innocent's ears. How very motherlike," he comments casually, cradling the snowball.

Confused and stunned, she freezes. "What do you mean by that?"

He then tosses the snowball at her, grinning as it hits her shoulder. "First of all, I win."

He ignores the glare coming from his girlfriend as she tosses the ball in her own hands at his chest, speckling the black fabric with small white dots. "And secondly, you're good with children. You consider them."

"I don't see what that has to do with-"

He takes her into his arms, close enough to be warm but far enough away that it's appropriate for little eyes. "You didn't want them to hear the word and start swearing. I don't know, really," he comments, laughing a bit with embarrassment. "It was just nice, that's all."

She shakes her head. "I don't see it as motherly, I just think it's the right thing. But whatever you say," she laughs, pecking him on the lips.

"Want to go home and warm up?" he whispers suddenly.

She tilts her head innocently. "Why would I want to do that?" she questions, a smile tugging at her cheeks.

Shrugging, Castle takes his gloved hand in hers and continues along the path. "To start, your lips are freezing."

Laughing once more, she responds, "Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea."

"There's coffee," he adds in.

Beckett grins. "Well if there's coffee, lead the way."


	5. Day 5

**Day 5**

**Author's Note: A (sort-of) post-ep for Secret Santa.**

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"It's time for art!" a cheery teacher announces, carrying a large tray.

The redhead in the corner sighs, tired. "I don't wanna do art," she mumbles to her dark-haired friend, resting her head in the palm of her hand.

Her friend glares. "Shh! Mrs. Andrews might hear you!" the six year old whispers furiously, nervous about being caught.

"Hello class! As you all know, this is the last time we'll see each other before winter break," the woman tells the children, stopping as she sees the tired young girl in the back. "Miss Alexis, I know it's the last class of the day, but please don't take a nap."

She bolts up, eyes wide. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Andrews!" she announces, blushing slightly.

Nodding in approval, the teacher continues on. "Today, we'll be decorating cookies." At the sight of the first grade class grinning and whispering, she adds, "They're not to eat. We'll make them for decorations or Christmas ornaments, if you celebrate the holiday."

The girl brightens up at the sound of that. "Mrs. Andrews, who are we making them for?" Alexis questions, her hand waving wildly in the air.

"Anyone you want. You can use any supplies from the boxes up front," she responds, pointing to a shelf. "Now come and get your cookies!"

At once, all fourteen first graders jump up and rush towards the pan, eagerly trying to get their favourite shapes. The biggest ones push their way through first, making off with the Christmas trees and snowmen. Alexis finally grabs an angel, smiling as she makes her way out of the pack and back to her seat.

Now energetic and bouncy, the girl gathers all the materials she can: sparkles, special glue frosting, sequins, and a ribbon. Then she makes her way back to her seat to begin decorating.

_I'm going to make the best ornament ever for my daddy,_ she thinks, only breaking focus to yell, "Claire, don't eat the glue frosting!"

When the teacher announces the end of class, she jumps up to compare her ornament to the other kids'. Like everyone else, her ornament is quite sparkly. However, she takes pride in the fact that one would still be able to tell hers was an angel. "Wasn't Alex's a Christmas tree?" she asks Claire suspiciously, looking at the glob of frosting and glitter in his hands.

The other girl shrugs, looking down at her own decorated ornament. "Mine doesn't look like that, right?" she worries.

Alexis shakes her head. "No, yours is beautiful!" she reassures her friend as they walk to their art teacher, who finishes the project. After the ornaments are tied, the class makes their way out of the building, chattering wildly about the holidays.

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The small redhead paces around her living room later that night, anxiously awaiting her father's return home. "Why did he have to have meetings?" she asks, holding the angel in one hand and flattening her purple skirt down with another.

"I'm sure he'll be home soon, kiddo," her grandmother responds, flipping through a magazine. "Are you sure you don't want to play a game or watch TV?"

"No!" she announces stubbornly. "I'm going to wait."

The older woman sighs. "Alright."

The two stay silent until Alexis stops pacing and turns towards her grandmother. "Do you like my ornament?"

Martha nods, leaning closer to look at the object in the little girl's hands. "Of course! It's very pretty. Your dad will love it!"

Alexis nods, still unsure, and places the ornament in her pocket.

Suddenly, the door clicks and Rick walks into the loft, his jacket in his hand. "Speak of the devil!" the older woman announces dramatically.

"Daddy!" Alexis calls, running towards him and hugging his legs. "I missed you!"

"I missed you too," he chuckles, hugging his daughter back. "How was school?" he asks as the little red-head pulls something from in her skirt.

Shyly, she hands him the cookie angel. "I made you an ornament. Do you like it?" she questions, looking down at her bare feet.

He nods, his face blooming into a wide smile. "I love it," he responds, kneeling down to her level. "Do you want to know why?"

"Why?" the little one asks, curious.

"You made it," he states simply. "And I love everything about you."

She smiles, kissing him on the cheek. "I love you too, daddy."

"Now, let's hang it on the tree, shall we?" Rick motions to the giant fir, allowing her to pick any branch she wants. It goes at her eye level, an obvious spot right at the front of the tree.

Alexis beams. "It looks good, doesn't it?"

Nodding, he replies, "It sure does."

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Years later, after Alexis has long since moved out of the loft, he stands at the same school, waiting to pick up another little six year old.

"Daddy!" the boy calls, running towards him at full speed, even with his heavy backpack. "Look what I made!"

His son shoves a small object at him, beaming. "Isn't it cool? Do you think mommy will like it?" Castle smiles.

It's another cookie angel.


	6. Day 6

**Day 6**

**Author's Note: Yeah, I'm late, I know. I have chapters written, I just need to edit them. So look out for those!**

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_2000_

They decide not to celebrate Christmas this year. Johanna's spirit rests too close, sitting atop all of the ornaments and festive decorations. Instead, her father spends the day out drinking in some bar, while she devotes herself to studying.

Concerned, her roommates ask her if she wants to go out to a party or make Christmas cookies. And she tries. She really, really tries. Yet the thought of accepting something Christmas-related without her mother around makes her stomach get queasy and her vision blur with tears.

So she buries her face in a textbook, munching on Chinese food and trying not to cry.

_2002 _

It's early Christmas morning, and she stands out on the street, patrolling.

The job is lonely, cold and, well, miserable. But it's better than someone with a family having to be out, their children and wives and husbands worrying about them.

So she walks, eyes watching for some sort of crime. Yet the streets are quiet, with most people are inside celebrating the holiday. Sighing, she leans on the side of a building and blows a hair out of her face. She hates this, she really does.

But she needs to make sure she's there, so other families don't have their holiday wrecked like hers did.

_2004 _

It's been two months since her father last had a drink. And as much as she wants to be with him this Christmas to help him from falling back into old habits, he announces suddenly that he'll be going to his cabin for the holidays.

So Beckett falls back on a newly forming tradition, one honoring her mother. She would have wanted her to do it, she thinks. Plus, she might just make detective soon. With a detective's authority, she'll be able to find her mother's killer.

For a second, a mere second, Christmas shows hope again.

_2006 _

Will doesn't understand. He's not a big holiday person, yet he becomes adamant about her getting a break when Christmas rolls around.

She huffs and slouches at her detective desk, rearranging the elephants in height order. It's been a pretty slow day, which she's spent mostly looking at old case files (not her mother's, though) and finishing paperwork. Even Montgomery is at home, with his family.

She's not jealous, surely not. It's a tradition. If she weren't working, she'd feel guilty and unsettled. It would be just as bad as being at work, if not worse.

So how does Will still not understand that?

_2008 _

She's exhausted. Completely and utterly exhausted. The captain wanted to give her the day off. He insisted. But deep inside, he knew that her answer would never change. Or at least, he should have.

It takes all her strength not to take a nap on the break room couch. If she wants to stay awake, she has to be distracted. But things are done, and she's tired of playing tetris. Basically, it's time for caffeine.

When she goes to make another cup of coffee, the phone rings. It's a body.

She's been saved another day.

_2009 _

It's another normal Christmas Eve, the normally busy halls of the precinct very quiet. Well, until she hears her phone buzz with a text.

'_Merry Christmas, detective!'_

She shakes her head, smiling ever so slightly as she realizes that it's from Castle.

'_How did you know I celebrated the holiday?' _She asks, waiting all too eagerly for a response.

'_I didn't, just took a stab at it._ _Anyways, got to go make sure mother hasn't ruined anything. Enjoy the day!"_

Beckett sighs. He's got a family to go to. He's got his traditions, and she shouldn't text him back.

Because she's got hers too.

_2010 _

She almost expects the text the next time, happy for the distraction from her paperwork.

_Merry Christmas! _He says, adding on a Santa hat to the end of the message.

_Merry Christmas to you too_, she replies, smiling. _"How's your day?"_

A minute later, her phone buzzes again, telling her, _Good, good, heading to a Christmas party. What are you doing?"_

She doesn't know whether to tell him but settles on, _Sitting around, had to work today. _

_Want a distraction_? Castle asks, and she nods even though he can't see her.

_Anything to get away from paperwork_.

They talk for the next twenty minutes.

_2011_

She's completely and utterly confused. After the months of resting and healing and not caring about the date, Christmas sneaks up on her. So much, in fact, that she almost forgets to request to work on the 25th.

But she does, as always, tired from not being able to sleep because of panic attacks and sore from her scar swelling up.

_Merry Christmas, Beckett._ The text lights up her phone screen, making her day slightly better, the tender words that follow warming her heart. He doesn't ask about work or Christmas or anything in particular at all.

They just talk.

_2012 _

For the first time in 12 years, she wakes up just past eight o' clock Christmas morning, snuggled against a man in his luxurious bed.

Last night they had spoken of starting new traditions and changing for each other. Making compromises. She was surprised that he would go to her if his family had their own celebrations to do, but she surprised herself too by showing up on his doorstep. But that was one of the reasons why they worked, right? Because they had changed.

She feels Castle pull on her arm, forcing her back towards him and muttering something about staying in bed, which she doesn't mind doing at all. She's glad she decided to come here and start a new tradition.

Beckett knows that, given the opportunity, she'd stay with him for a long, long time.


	7. Day 7

**Day 7**

**Author's Note: Beware the bizarrely timed updates for the next few days. Your regular fanfiction will be back momentarily. **

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He wants his little boy to see Christmas. And he tries, putting up the tree as always with a concerned Alexis and his equally as concerned mother. Every now and then, Wyatt cries from his crib and Castle has to comfort him, rocking him back and forth until he curls up into a ball and falls back into slumber, blissfully unaware.

Sure, the boy had cried on and off for the first week or two after his mother had been gone, confused. Yet, the boy forgot rather quickly, happy with his father. But Castle could never erase the panic, the fear, the misery, the disbelief that had first flooded his mind when he heard Kate was missing.

And missing she's stayed. For the past two months, he's heard nothing from her.

He doesn't even believe she's alive anymore, not really. But he hopes. He hopes every night when he goes to bed and the spot next to him is cold, his wife's things still hanging in the closet, her shoes littering a corner of the room.

And their baby still cries upstairs, shattering the noiselessness of the tree trimming. He sighs and puts down the ornament he's holding. It's one she bought for him right before their first Christmas after she had moved in. Of course, it's a small porcelain coffee cup, with a little red heart drawn on the white surface.

Melancholy, he trudges up the stairs, grimly entering the baby's room to see what's wrong. But Wyatt isn't crying at all.

He's laughing.

Castle smiles slightly, shaking his head. "What are you giggling about?" he asks, scooping him up from the crib. "Are you done sleeping?"

Wyatt gurgles, kicking wildly.

"I'll take that as a yes. Want to see the tree?" he asks, knowing the baby can't quite understand what's happening but asking nevertheless.

Yet again, the infant giggles and presses his head against his father's chest. The writer heads out of the room with the little one in his hands, heading down the stairs.

"Oh, look who's up!" Martha announces, ornaments in both hands. "Brought him to see the tree?"

"Yeah, I think he wants to." Castle positions him properly in the direction of the bright, twinkling lights, smiling as the boy's eyes glisten in amazement.

"Oh look, he likes it-" Alexis starts, getting interrupted by a knocking on the door. Both the girls look at the two boys, nodding towards the door and holding up the delicate ornaments in their hands.

He huffs dramatically. "Fine, I'll get it," he responds, shifting Wyatt to a more comfortable position as he unlatches the deadbolt and the sliding lock.

The sight he sees when he opens the door almost makes him drop his son.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Beckett whispers, nearly running through the door and engulfing both her husband and son in a giant hug. "All of you. You and Wyatt and Martha and Alexis."

Alexis jumps off the ladder, running to close the door before yelling, "Kate! We thought you were gone!"

She pulls away, turning towards the new college-graduate. "I did too," she responds, reaching to hold Wyatt against her, to know he's safe. "I'm so glad to be back."

"What happened?" Castle asks, still disbelieving. "How- what- are you really here?" he asks, floundering at the sight of her holding their son, fluffing his hair, and kissing him on the cheek.

He never thought he'd see that again.

She nods tearfully, smiling as she whispers in his ear. "Wait until later. I'll prove we're both alive." Then she turns to the others and states tiredly, "It's a long story that I probably shouldn't share all the details of yet." Her hand twitches at the memory, and she hands Wyatt back to her husband for fear of dropping him.

Alexis frowns. "They still haven't caught who kidnapped you?" she asks, appalled.

The detective shakes her head, dirty curls swaying back and forth. "No, they have, they just don't want a lot of information out yet," she tells her, voice cracking. "Listen, I know you're trimming the tree and all, but I really need to rest. Is that okay with you?"

Smiling widely, Martha waves her hand. "Oh, of course. It doesn't matter anyways, as long as you're safe. We can wait until tomorrow to finish."

Grateful, Beckett tiredly heads to the bedroom, kicking off her shoes as she walks. Castle motions towards her, and his daughter and mother nod in understanding.

He wanders into the room behind her and closes the door, watching as she strips and changes into a baggy t-shirt and sweatpants. "Did they hurt you?" he finally asks, voice weak.

"Castle-" she starts, running a hand through her tangled locks.

His eyes tear up. "They did, didn't they? I should have been there. I could have-"

"No," she interrupts, sitting on the bed. "You needed to be with Wyatt. And what would have happened if they had gotten both of us?" she sighs. "Let's drop it for now. I'm just glad I can be here for Wyatt's first Christmas."

He nods, smiling as the baby gurgles again, confused but joyous at the same time. "Well, I should let you sleep," he whispers, heading out of the room.

"Stay?" she asks desperately, patting the comforter next to her.

He sheds a tear at that, at everything falling back into place again. "Of course," he responds, placing Wyatt in the crib still left in their room and moving to lie on the bed.

The three fall asleep together, blanketed by the reassurance that everything can and will be okay.


	8. Day 8

**Day 8**

**Author's Note: Yeah, it's in the 60's here. Not normal. **

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Beckett wakes up to her partner pacing around the room, pouting. "What're you doing?" she asks sleepily, pulling the covers up around her.

"Ah, nothing," he replies, stopping in the middle of the room. "Sorry I woke you, by the way."

She turns over. "No, it's okay. What time is it?"

Glancing at the clock, he tells her, "8:30, why?"

She shrugs, pushing herself up out of bed. "Just wondering. Knew I needed to get up sometime." The sleepiness starts to wear off, and she questions, "But really, why were you pacing?"

"It's nothing, as I said."

She slides out of bed, wincing slightly as her warm feet touch the cold floor. "I don't care if it's weird, just tell me," she responds, making her way over to where he stands so she can cuddle against him.

Quietly, Castle mumbles. "It hasn't snowed yet."

The detective holds back a sarcastic comment, as promised. "It'll snow soon," she finally tells him, her fingers drawing circles on his back.

He nods, his hand tapping on his thigh. "I know, but this will be the first time Alexis and I won't be together for the first snow since she was born! How do I deal with that?" he asks, turning to look at her.

Running a hand through his hair, Beckett smiles slightly. "She's a big girl now. She'll be here less and less as she gets older, becoming her own person, and I know you want that for her. I think it'll get easier," she reasons. "And I know it won't make up for it, but I'll be here."

He nods and presses a kiss to her lips. "Thank you."

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she's convinced that the proper way to respond to that is, "Always."

-0-0-0-0-0-

She leaves later that morning, telling him she wants to do errands and maybe get something to eat with Lanie, leaving him alone to write for a few hours. He gets so caught up in one of his scenes that he hardly notices Beckett walk into the study to watch him write, her eyes drifting from his face to his fingers typing on the keys.

When he's finally satisfied with his work, he looks up and finds her holding a small box. "That for me?" he teases, pressing save and closing the laptop.

"Actually yes," she responds, getting up from her seat to place the box on his desk.

He toys with the bow, examining the present. "Am I supposed to open it now, or-"

"Now," she commands gently, smiling as he pulls off the wrapping and looks at the object. "Because you were complaining about it not snowing."

It's simple, the design consisting a bunch of skyscrapers in New York City. But the snow makes it so much more than just a piece of tourist merchandise, even if that is its true purpose. "Thank you," he breathes, grinning at her. "I love it."

She knows it's just her imagination, but it sounds a lot like, 'I love you.'


	9. Day 9

**Day 9**

**Author's Note: Let's say this takes place sometime next holiday season, shall we?**

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The two hop in the car after a long day of work, mentally exhausted. The previous case had been a stumper, and even though it had been cracked and wrapped up around noon, the previous two nights of sleeplessness were beginning to catch up with them.

She sighs, putting the key in the ignition and backing out of the parking garage. "I'm so glad that's done," she tells him.

"It was interesting, at least," he responds, trying to make the best out of the fact that a girl fresh out of college was killed by her own mother.

The detective shrugs. "Sometimes, interesting isn't what we want," Beckett mutters, thinking about the woman. How could someone just wake up and decide that she didn't want to help her kid out anymore? She'd never be able to imagine doing that with her children or any child, really.

Noticing Beckett thinking deeply, he asks, "You want to go out to eat to get your mind off of it? I know this great place. Really small, decently festive."

Castle's voice shakes her out of her thoughts, and she shrugs again. "I don't know-"

"It's still pretty early still, only 5:30. I don't really feel like cooking, and we'd still be able to sleep a decent amount later," he tries to convince her, adding in, "Unless you have other plans," to lighten up the mood.

Swiftly, she pushes his arm and thinks about it once more. "I guess it sounds pretty good," the brunette comments, pushing buttons on her GPS. "Where is it? I'll plug it in."

He turns the GPS away from her, which gets him a slight scowl. "I can lead you to it. I want it to be a surprise."

Huffing, she responds, "Fine. But if we get lost, it's your fault."

They drive in silence for a while, Castle calling out directions every now and then, which she's grateful for. She really needs the time to recover. After a good twenty minutes or so, he finally directs, "Pull into that parking garage right there. It's only about a block or so from here.

Once she finds a good place, they hop out of the car and start walking, Beckett's hand interlaced with Castle's. Bright lights litter the street, a canopy of twinkling strands hanging from building to building. Windows of children's rooms have window clings decorating them, and through some of the curtains outlines of Christmas trees or Menorahs can be seen.

"Can I drive the car on the way back?" Castle asks suddenly, directing her into a restaurant labeled, "All Americana".

She laughs. "If you're good," she teases, having no intention to do so.

"Do you really want me to be good?" he asks, squeezing her hip. But by that time, she's already distracted by the festivities of the place, tastefully done and gorgeous yet overwhelming at the same time.

"Table for two?" the server asks, menus in hand.

Castle responds, and the woman leads her to a table as she looks around. Everything seems to be lit up with Christmas lights, including the ceiling lights. The tables rotate between decorations of tiny trees and menorahs, and children entertain themselves by sticking putty shapes on a piece of glass in the corner of the restaurant.

"First time here?" the lady asks as she motions at their table.

Beckett nods. "Yeah," she states, amazed.

"Well, I hope you enjoy it! The specials today are our hot cinnamon apple cider and the peppermint hot chocolate," she tells them, adding in that their server will arrive shortly before leaving.

"This place is nice," she comments, flipping through the menu.

Picking up his own menu, Castle responds, "Yeah, and get this: everything is holiday themed!" The writer points to a section. "See, this is made with apple cider, and this is a gingerbread crepe. I don't know what to pick," he admits, hurriedly looking back at the paper.

She smiles, acknowledging the fact they haven't been out like this in a while. When they do go out, whether it be an 'official' date or not, she gets butterflies in her stomach like she's in high school on her first date again. She likes being with him and having other people see, so long as they're not overly nosy. It's nice.

Time passes by quickly after they place their order, the two of them enjoying the company and food (which turns out to be amazing).

After finishing their meals, Castle launches into a story. "You know, I found this place when it first opened. I was in college then, you know? It was cheap and a bit crazy. Never really brought anyone here, though, besides Alexis. I never thought they'd like it," he remembers, looking off into the distance.

She nods, taking a sip of the alcoholic cider and absorbing the words. "It's nice. Definitely different. And it'd be a great place for our kids."

Dumbfounded, he breaks out of his trance immediately, trying not to stare. "What?"

She replays the conversation in her head, nearly spitting out her drink as she realizes. "I- I just wanted to see if you were paying attention," she tries, stuttering.

He shakes his head, chuckling. "I've thought about it too," he tells her. "But no kids right now," the writer adds, trying not to scare her off.

"No," she responds, a relieved grin blossoming over her features. "But sometime. One or two."

He nods, still amazed by how in sync they are. "Yeah. That'd be nice."

"Do you two want anything to eat for dessert?" the waitress asks, bouncing over to them. "Oh, did I interrupt something?" she quickly asks, backing away slightly when she realizes the personal nature of the conversation.

But the moment is lost. There's nothing to be gained from making her feel bad. "No, not at all. Can we have a menu?" Castle responds, turning back to his partner. "The apple dumpling with gingerbread ice cream is amazing."

She shrugs, still joyful. "Sure. Whatever sounds good."


	10. Day 10

**Day 10**

**Author's Note: Another short post-ep for Secret Santa I kind of like.**

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She just wants to get away from her when she's at work. It's bad enough she has to go home and spend the week with her. The fact that her mother-in-law is texting her now is just the icing on the metaphorical cake.

She can't even congratulate one of her detectives and said detective's writer shadow/partner/significant other (she really wonders if the two still think she doesn't know about them) on a good close without her damn cellphone ringing with a message.

Some of them are annoying as heck, reminding her, _Don't forget the potatoes tonight_ or _There's a bathroom out of toilet paper._ Others just nag, asking, _Are you sure you didn't throw that pan out? It was a very lovely wedding gift, Victoria _and _I had to pack Drew's lunch today. Will you do it tomorrow?_

But there lies half of the problem: her son, Drew, actually likes his grandmother. Or at least, he likes her as much as a fourteen year old boy can like a family member. Her husband doesn't mind the extra company at all either, reasoning every time the woman wants to come over that "It's only one week".

One week of hell.

Eyebrows furrowed, she opens the text message and reads: _Are you almost at the restaurant? Our reservation is in ten minutes!_

The reservation. She had forgotten all about that. Hurriedly, she runs into her office and presses the off button on her computer, putting on her coat and shoving papers into her bag as the machine powers down. Finally, she can make it out the door.

"Heading out, sir?" Detective Ryan asks, glancing over at his partner as if to make sure he isn't doing anything stupid.

She nods, checking her watch. "Yes, I have a dinner to get to. Both my mother-in-law and my parents are going to be there. Should be an interesting time."

From the corner of her eye, she can see Detective Beckett and Mr. Castle cringe simultaneously.

"Good luck," Beckett mutters, receiving a confused and suspicious look from the writer.

"Thank you, I expect I'll need it," Gates responds, pressing the elevator button. "Oh, and happy holidays."

A chorus of "Happy Holidays" echoes around the room as her phone dings once more with a text from her mother-in-law. _Five more minutes, are you sure you'll make it in time?_

Five more days...


	11. Day 11

**Day 11**

**Author's Note: I've done something like this before. It's fun!**

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She heads to Castle's loft after work one day, expecting him to answer the door; however, Alexis answers instead. "Hey, Kate. What are you doing here?" she asks, smiling.

She peers inside the loft. "Is your dad home?"

The redhead shakes her head, small specks of flour flying about. "No, he's still out meeting with people. Want to come in?" She questions, motioning towards the room.

Hesitating for a moment, Beckett finally answers, "Sure."

When she steps in the loft, her senses are immediately flooded by various Christmas festivities. The scent of gingerbread wafts through the loft, sweet yet savory. Christmas music echoes through her ears. At the ding of an oven, Alexis runs back into the kitchen and pulls something out.

"What are you doing?" Beckett asks, curious.

Alexis nods her head in the direction of the counter. "Making gingerbread, of course! You want to help?" She asks, juggling the hot pan.

The brunette shrugs. "Why not?" she asks, pulling off her coat and making her way towards the sink to wash her hands. On the counter sits a good three dozen cookies. The fresh dozen sits on the cooling rack.

Alexis notices Kate's confused expression. "It's all for a fundraiser at school, by the way. The club I'm in is making a bunch of gingerbread men and decorating them. All the proceeds will go to buying presents for kids at an orphanage," the girl explains, picking up a bowl and starting to mix.

"Oh, well I bet it'll sell quickly. I used to make gingerbread a lot when I was a teenager. Couldn't get enough of that stuff," she laughs, looking at the recipe. "My dad teased me about it constantly."

"My dad always comments on how I love tomatoes. Says it's how I got my red hair," she responds, shaking her head so her ponytail bounces.

They bake in silence for a minute, utensils clacking and eggs cracking. Eventually, Beckett comments, "You're pretty good at this. You bake often?"

She shrugs, pushing the batter out of the bowl onto a piece of wax paper. "I guess I did it a lot when I was younger. And I'm pretty good at using the oven, too. I learned how after the first time my dad fed me a smorlette. Couldn't get the taste out of my mouth," she recalls, cringing at the memory.

"They're pretty odd," the detective responds, grimacing. "How many times has he tried to get you to eat it?" she asks, sorry for the girl.

Thinking, Alexis responds, "Five or six. The first time was when I was eleven. You?"

Beckett lays out her own wax paper, rolling out the dough like Alexis. "Only once, thankfully. It was sometime in September."

"At least he can't make them now. We used up all the eggs," the red-head smirks, holding up the empty box.

The older woman looks around. "I think that's okay. It looks like we have enough," she jokes, counting 6 dozen cookies.

"I think so too."

There's a moment of silence again before Beckett glances around and asks, "Where's the cookie cutter? And how should I cut them anyways?" The detective tries to spot it on the cluttered countertop, to no avail.

Handing Kate the little man-shaped piece of metal, the college student laughs. "Anyway you please, really. I do as many as I can on one side then reshape the dough."

"Works for me," she answers, relieved to be getting along with Alexis. When she had first gotten together with Castle, she worried that Alexis would hate the idea of them. But standing here in the kitchen, baking cookies and talking about school, she decides that maybe it all will be okay. Alexis doesn't mind being with her.

Eventually, the door opens and closes, and a voice asks, "How's the cookie making going?"

"Good," the two respond, leaning on the counter to watch the last batch bake.

Castle does a double take. "I didn't know you were coming over, Beckett," he tells her cheerfully, kissing his daughter on the top of the head and his girlfriend on the cheek. "Are the cookies almost done?"

Nodding, Alexis counts down the time on the clock. "Done!" she quickly announces, grabbing the potholders.

"I think we're decorating the cool ones now. Are you joining us?" The brunette asks, already sure of the answer.

He nods, as excited as a little kid on Christmas, already retreating towards the bedroom. "Of course, just let me get changed."

"He's going to decorate them like space cowboys, isn't he?" Beckett asks once Castle is out of earshot.

Alexis laughs. "Probably."


	12. Day 12

**Day 12**

**Author's Note: It's not really holiday themed, but fit decently well. Yes, the Chinese part is true and yes, I did post this on 12/12/12, no matter what FF may say. **

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He flits around the entire morning, unable to focus on one thing. Beckett ignores it for the first hour or two, happy that he's not being too distracting and is getting her coffee every now and then. But as the morning progresses, his fidgeting worsens to the point where she wants to push the chair across the room and force him to sit there.

And the biggest problem is that she can't figure out why he's so excited. Or at least, she assumes he's excited about something from the way he bounces ever so slightly in his chair and grins at her whenever she looks over at him. However, his foot also twitches nervously, so she's not 100% sure what to think about that.

"Castle, you going up to get more coffee anytime soon?" she asks, pushing the mug towards him. She really doesn't need the caffeine right now, but the tapping fingers in the edge of her vision is really starting to bother her.

He looks up from his holiday themed game of Subway Surfers, shoving the phone in his pocket and picking up the mug. "Oh yeah, sure."

Finally, she can get work done. Yet she can't focus on work anymore, with the mystery of Castle's behavior at the front of her mind.

Around noon, her and the boys decide they want Remy's for lunch after a thumb war and an intense game of rock, paper, scissors. "Want to walk down the block with me to get it?" Beckett asks her partner, grateful for the break.

He nods. "Sure, but can we wait a few minutes?" he asks, looking at his phone.

The brunette glances over at the screen, confused when she notices that all he's looking at is the lock screen. But then she sees the date. December 12, 2012.

He must want to make a wish.

"Come on," she commands lightly, pulling him towards the exit. "You can still see the time on your phone when you're in the elevator."

After a reluctant glance and a few confused stares from the boys, he quickly locks his phone and follows Beckett into the elevator, pulling out the device again as soon as the doors close.

"It's 12:12! Make a wish!" He announces to the quiet elevator, leaving it in silence for a moment. "Did you make one?" the writer finally asks Beckett, one eye open.

"No-"

He gasps. "You have to make one before it's too late!"

Reluctantly, she closes her eyes for a second, opening them again as the doors open. "Fine, I made one," she tells him, weaving her way through the precinct lobby. "Why is it so important, anyways?" the detective questions, pushing her way through the main doors and onto the cold street, the writer directly behind her.

Castle huffs dramatically, catching up to her. "Why is it so important, Detective Beckett? There's three reasons. First of all, it's the last day for another ninety years where we''ll get to have the day, month, year, and time all be the same number. Secondly, everyone all across the world agrees on the date today, so it's much less of a hassle," he concludes, nudging against her on the busy sidewalk.

"Wait, what's the third one?" she asks, concerned about her partner's counting skills. "In Mandarin, today's date is pronounced yao er," he starts, his voice fiddling with the tones. "That sounds similar to yao ai, which means one love. So basically, to people that speak the language, it'll sound like you're saying 'one love' over and over when it's really just the date."

She gives an impressed hum before adding, "But what does that have to do with anything?"

He stops under the Remy's awning, pulling her closer to him. "You're that one love for me. I can't imagine loving anyone else in the way I love you," he whispers, his breath tickling her ear. "So to celebrate, do you want to go out tonight? We'll get dressed up, go to a nice restaurant. It'll be fun," he convinces, his eyes warm and inviting.

"I don't know..." she teases, grinning. "Let's call it a date."


	13. Day 13

**Day 13**

**Author's Note: Ski season is starting! **

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Katie Beckett could do anything she put her mind to. She could do anything.

Or almost anything.

Her mother shakes her head as the little girl trips and falls into the snow, rushing to help her up with a smile. "Don't try to go too fast, honey," she remarks, brushing snow off her daughter's goggles. "You'll run into someone."

"I'm trying," the eight year old whines, stabbing her ski pole into the snow. "The skis aren't working like they should."

"It's only your second time skiing," the older woman responds, corralling her daughter over to the rope tow. "You'll get better, I promise." She then grabs onto the handle, watching to make sure the girl gets on behind her.

Pouting, Katie makes a face at her mother and grabs onto the bar, nearly falling when the sudden force pulls her forward. "I wanna go on a lift," she complains, looking over at the much faster chairs.

"You can go on those when you get better. Maybe next time we come," her mother responds, getting off the tow.

The littlest Beckett hops off after her, mouth open. "Next time? I want to go now!" she complains. The family behind them turns to look at her, smiling and shaking their heads.

Johanna leads her to the top of the hill. "You want to get better? Practice here."

"But-"

Her mother frowns. "No other option, Kate. Now, watch me," she commands, placing her skies in a position resembling a pie slice, her toes pointed inwards into a v. Then she pushes off with her poles at a slow, controlled speed, turning once or twice down the small hill. Once at the bottom, she motions for her daughter to follow.

Awkwardly, Katie points her toes towards each other and bends her knees like her mother had told her, sliding down the hill. But instead of turning, she careens down the hill in a straight line, almost forgetting to stop and nearly barreling into her mother. "Was that better?" the little girl asks, excited.

"You've got to turn," Johanna states, pointing to a larger trail. "See those skiers? They're able to go down that hill because they're turning. That's how you keep yourself from getting hurt," she reasons.

She squints. "Doesn't look like they're turning," the eight year old comments.

Her mother leads her back to the rope tow, talking as they glide along the powder. "That's how you turn when you get really good. But now, you have to make big turns to learn. Got it?"

"Good like Dad?" she asks, thinking about how her father had mentioned something about going on 'double blacks' with his ski buddies.

Her mother laughs. "Sure, like Dad," she responds, holding onto the metal bar once more.

"I can do it this time!" she yells, grabbing a handle and bouncing ever-so-slightly up the hill. When they reach the top, her mother demonstrates once again and motions for her daughter to follow.

Katie looks up at the good skiers, the ones like her dad, and pushes off the white fluff. The first turn she makes is odd and off-balance, her arms flailing slightly as she puts more weight on one ski. The second is better but still a bit awkward as she swings around to a stop next to her mother. "Did I do better?" she asks, pulling her feet back into a normal position.

Nodding and smiling, the older woman pats her on the shoulder. "You sure did! If you can do that another few times, we can go to the bigger bunny hill!"

Groaning, the littlest Beckett falls face-first into the snow in frustration.


	14. Day 14

**Day 14**

**Author's Note: Thought it was necessary to write a chapter for Newport, CT. A happy, Christmas chapter will come tomorrow, I promise. **

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The precinct falls to a hush as the news report plays. Ryan, Beckett, and Castle are clumped together when they notice the story, interrupting the normal news. The room remains quiet until after the segment ends, the bullpen slowly revving back to life.

"All this time working in homicide and I still can't understand how dark someone would have to be to kill a child, let alone go into a school and shoot twenty of them," Beckett comments, turning to face her co-workers.

Ryan shakes his head. "And eight teachers. How do you even begin to raise a kid in a world like this?" he asks, fiddling with a paperweight on his desk.

"Same way as everyone else," Castle responds quietly. "You try to protect your kid."

The Irish detective sighs uneasily. "I'm glad I didn't have to tell parents that their children were never coming back. I feel sorry for those cops, yet admire them," he comments, "I never could do that. I couldn't go in there and look at children's bodies then come out acting normal."

"I feel sorry for anyone involved in the incident: first responders, detectives, clean up, ME, all of them. The victims as well," the brunette remarks, quietly observing her partner.

The writer frowns at the floor, in another world. "I can't imagine what the families are going through. They'll have to go home and deal with the presents in the closet," Castle explains sadly, his voice breaking ever so slightly. "They'll have to explain to siblings and relatives and friends that their little girl or boy isn't coming back. They won't be able to fill that stocking at Christmas, or give them their final Hanukkah present."

He doesn't mention it, but everyone knows he's thinking about Alexis as he speaks.

"And in a few days, people will forget about it and go on with their normal lives," Beckett mumbles, stacking some papers on her desk.

Ryan stands up, adjusting his sweater vest. "Terrible, really."

As the other detective makes his way over to his desk, Castle looks up and asks, "How do you move on from something like that and get back into your work?"

She shrugs, making her way towards the murder board. "I guess I just remember that there's other people who want to know who killed someone they loved. There are other families out there grieving, and my team and I can bring them some sort of comfort. That's enough to get me moving," the detective answers.

"I guess so," he responds, turning to face the whiteboard.

Beckett smiles sadly and makes her way back over to him, taking her hand in his. "It's okay," she tells him. "Things go on."

He lets out a shaky breath. "Things may go on," he states, "But they're not okay, not right now."


	15. Day 15

**Day 15**

**Author's Note: Happy things, as promised!**

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They head towards the Hamptons early one December night, driving along a highway of winter sunset. She allows herself to enjoy the view for a while, letting her eyes fall out of focus and see the world in a blur of pink and orange and purple.

But when the sky turns to a dark, almost black-ish blue, she realizes she has no idea where they are. "Is this the way we went last time?" she questions, looking around.

He shrugs, eyes on the road. "Not quite. I have something I want to show you."

"Aw, I didn't want to move," she jokes, turning to look at him.

"You don't have to," the writer responds, a twinkle in his eye as he turns onto a side street.

She leans against the seat casually, raising an eyebrow. "Okay, now I'm curious. What is it?"

Mischievously, he smirks and responds, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Beckett raises an eyebrow. "So you won't tell me?" she asks, entertained.

"Nope," he answers, shaking his head with child-like glee.

Impressed with his self-control, the brunette holds back a laugh and tries to enjoy the rest of the ride. But as time ticks on, she gets more and more curious. Shouldn't they be there already? "Aren't we-" she starts, ready to weasel some information of him.

"There!" He points out, motioning towards a farm.

She stares at him in disbelief. "We're at a farm?"

Castle shakes his head. "Wait a minute," he commands, driving around a tree-covered bend.

And then she sees that everything is lit up: the bushes, the trees, the barn, even the driveway. "Wow," she comments, her smile reflecting off the now lit window. "How did you find this?"

The writer shrugs, pulling up a to a gate. "It's amazing what you can find on Google," he laughs, paying the man in the window. After he pulls away from the booth, he starts to fiddle with the radio dial, eyes stoping to focus on each station.

"What are you doing?" she asks, suspicious.

He looks up, a broad smile spreading over his cheeks. "They even have their own radio station! It plays different music to go with the different areas!"

The grin fills her with warmth, a pleasant thing spreading from her cheeks to her toes. When he's happy like this, so carefree and excited, she can't help but feel even more attracted to him. It's not always in an overly sexual way, though. Sometimes, she just wants to curl up with him on the couch and cuddle, his fingers running through her hair. Tonight is one of those nights, so she places her hand on top of his free one, enjoying the lights and the feeling of the back of his hand on her cold palm.

"Look, there's a Santa's Workshop themed one!" he announces, nodding his head towards the barn. It looks like reindeer are erupting out of it, elves dancing and singing in the windows to the tune of "Jingle Bell Rock".

Ever so slightly down the street, the main house has lights completely covering it, the shrubs made to look like gumdrops. Bright lollipops litter the yard and vibrant gingerbread cut-outs stand on the sidewalk.

The next two displays exhibit snowmen and penguins playing, the giant fir trees around the areas tastefully lit up with white tree lights. After, a carousel made completely of twinkling lights spins around in an area designed to be a carnival, including a large, lit-up train in the background and a cotton candy stand. Lastly, there's a giant nativity scene, depicting the origins behind Christmas.

"That was nice," Beckett comments, still holding her partner's hand as the radio station fades out and they drive through the exit.

He nods. "I thought you'd like it. It's Christmasy and nice, but doesn't involve too much effort," the writer comments, an idea forming in his head. "I bet I could make something like this at the Hampton's house!"

Snorting, the brunette comments, "As if."

Feigning insult, Castle asks, "Is that a challenge?"

"Is this how we're going to spend our weekend?" she asks, amused.

"Putting up lights?" He ponders, chuckling nervously. "Psh, no."

"Castle."

"Maybe."


	16. Day 16

**Day 16**

**Author's Note: If I were to name this chapter, the name would be "I didn't see that", "Where did this ending come from", or "Don't try this at home". **

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Beckett arrives at the loft on a snowy Sunday, kicking off the powder on her boots. "What do I smell?" she asks, hair speckled with snow.

"Don't get excited," he responds, laughing. "It's just a candle," he tells her, pointing to the flame near the edge of the island.

Shrugging, she walks over to meet him in the kitchen. "It's still nice, though. You wrapping presents?" she asks, noticing the pile on the floor.

"Yeah," he responds, looking at the stack and pointing to a small pile of gifts. "They're all for mother's stocking," the writer states, going back to his wrapping.

She picks up a small, unwrapped book, reading the title. "'Ways to Stay Sane for Actors'? Really, Castle?" she jokes, passing the object to him.

Laughing, he catches the book and puts it on the paper. "It's all for fun," he replies. "Want to help?"

The detective cringes and shakes her head. "I'm no good at wrapping. Can't even remember how to do it."

Smirking, Castle asks, "Want me to help you learn?"

"I don't see why not," she responds, making her way to stand next to her partner.

He stands behind her, his chest touching her back lightly. "First, you've got to measure the paper with the box. It's got to be a bit more than twice as wide, or else it won't work."

She hums, enjoying the feeling of his hands on hers and the warmth of his body. Contently, she remembers the first time they cuddled like this. It was not too long after they first met, and he had pretended not to know how to shoot.

There's no reason she couldn't pull something like that now.

"Next, you've got to cut the paper," he explains, picking up the scissors.

She raises an eyebrow. "I know how to do that much," she retorts, cutting a slightly jagged line.

He nods, leaning his head on her shoulder. "Then, fold the paper so that it's surrounding the package on all but two of the sides and tape," he whispers, kissing her gently under the ear.

Reluctantly, she nudges his mouth away. "I'm trying to wrap a present," she responds, a smile in her voice.

"Right, right," he answers, still cuddled into her. "So fold the bottom piece on the end up," he teaches, folding with her.

"Okay."

"And then you've got to fold the corner like this," he explains, pushing the paper towards the box to fold the piece of paper into two small corners.

She tries the other one, messing up the first time but pushing the paper into a decent fold the next try. "Good?" she asks, turning her head to smile at him.

He kisses her quickly, knowing she'll probably get annoyed if he tries to distract her more than that. "Yeah, that's good. Now just fold it up and tape."

She does so, allowing him to help her with the other side. Then she examines the newly wrapped present, rubbing a thumb over the smooth surface before putting it with the others. "Mind if I try one on my own?" she asks, trying to keep from grinning.

He shakes his head, motioning to the pile. "Pick one."

She immediately picks up a bottle of hand lotion, ignoring Castle's warning that it'll be hard to wrap. She wraps it with speed, the corners and surface nearly perfect. "How's this look?" she asks, grinning with delight.

"Why, Katherine Beckett, I do believe you tried to trick me," he comments.

"Yes, I did," she states, tossing the now wrapped package in the pile.

He picks up three out of the six remaining packages, placing them on his workstation, the kitchen island. "Well, if you're so good at wrapping presents like you obviously think you are, want to race?"

The brunette picks up the other three presents, moving to the kitchen table. "Why yes, yes I would," she responds.

He tosses the partially used roll to her. "Use this one. I'll get out a new one," he tells her, getting out a poinsettia patterned paper while she unrolls her ornaments. Swiftly, Castle grabs the edge of the paper, rolling the cardboard tube towards the end of the island.

"Castle! Watch out for the-"

But her warning fails, for the cardboard of the wrapping paper knocks over the candle, immediately lighting the wrapping paper on fire. Castle screeches, pushing the present off the table and running towards the cabinet to grab the fire extinguisher.

Beckett stands off to the side, slack-jawed and unsure of what to do. Quickly, her partner pulls the trigger off the device and sprays water all over the burning paper, saving the fire alarm from going off.

"You have a water fire extinguisher?" she asks, confused.

"And one for electrical fires, just in case," he responds, putting the device back where it belongs.

The detective sighs, looking at the now charred paper. "How many times has this happened?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

He shifts nervously. "Uh, well, it usually happens once or twice every holiday season, but not always with wrapping paper."

Shaking her head, Beckett walks back into the kitchen with a small smile on her face, trying to find the dustpan. "What am I getting myself into?" she mumbles, ready to clean up the mess they've gotten into this time.

But no matter what mess they get into, they always seem to get out.


	17. Day 17

**Day 17**

**Author's Note: Wrote this while waiting for my bus this morning. It was that late.**

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Freezing rain sprinkles down, coating the branches with a substance that makes them pink and orange instead of brown. It looks nice but makes walking down the street to the Subway miserable, the sidewalks covered in ice.

She had promised Castle she'd meet him in front of a building not too far away from her loft. He had refused to tell her where they were going, so she googled the address and found out that the location was a soup kitchen. It isn't how she planned to spend her Friday night, but if Castle wants to do it, she might as well go. Besides, it might be nice, working with those less fortunate. She helps people every day, but in a darker setting. Helping the living to stay alive is a welcome change.

The ride on the subway is damp and crowded, people trying to escape the bothersome conditions. At the next stop she gives her seat up to a mother and her young child, forcing her to stand for the rest of the journey. Still wet from the ice, she finally gets out of the train and walks briskly through the city to find the kitchen, wishing she had bought an umbrella.

Castle waits under the awning, waving and smiling as she runs for cover. "Glad you could make it," he comments, warming her up with a quick hug.

"I'm glad it'll be warm in here," she comments, letting him open the door for her and usher her into the crowded soup kitchen.

Various people of all ages sit in the room or in line, happy for a hot meal. Children smile and run around tables, ignoring their parents' requests for them to stay calm. The writer leads her into the back, introducing her to the people who work there.

"Rick! No Alexis this time?" One of the cooks asks, stirring a pot.

He shakes his head. "No, she's a grown up college girl now. Brought someone else, though," Castle responds, motioning towards his partner. "This is Kate. She's the detective I've been following around for my books."

The group waves and smiles, greeting her warmly. She waves back, a bit shy.

After the cook, Jeff, tells them that they'll be serving, she turns to Castle and asks, "How do they know Alexis?"

"Once she got into Middle school, she had to do an hour of community service every month. We came here when she was in seventh grade and just never left," he answers, washing his hands and tying an apron around his waist.

Beckett nods, putting on her own apron. "You do this every year?" she asks, taking her place at the soup bucket.

"Since then. Ready to get to work?"

She nods, and they spend the next forty-five minutes ladling out soup to give to people, smiling and saying "Happy Holidays" as people exit with their food. The time passes quickly, but before they can leave, Castle decides he wants to catch up with the chefs. Beckett, feeling rather tired and not up for much socializing with the guys, goes out to the sitting area. It's decorated nicely, holiday swags with bows running between the ceiling and the wall. In a corner sits a tiny Christmas tree. Inviting, but not over the top. Appropriate.

Wanting to sit down, she looks around for someone who might not mind her sitting with them. Finally, she sees an older woman sitting alone at a two person table. "Mind if I sit here?" she asks, pointing to the plastic chair.

"Not at all," the woman replies with a warm smile. "Do you work here?" She asks, Noticing the lack of soup in the younger woman's hands.

She shrugs. "This is my first time, actually. May come back though."

The woman smiles again, looking small in her large coat and oversized hat. "Well, that's lovely. It's really a great place. Mind if I ask you your name?" she questions, finishing her bowl of soup.

Beckett chuckles. "Not at all. It's Kate," she replies, sticking her hand out.

The woman shakes it lightly. "I'm Dorothy. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too. Are you here often?" she wonders, adding, "If you don't mind my asking."

Dorothy shakes her head. "No, not really. I come when money is too tight, maybe once or twice a week. Not nearly as much as some, but I feel for those poor families who can't afford food every day. You have a family?"

The detective stops herself before she can say no. "No kids of my own, no. My boyfriend has an older daughter, though," she responds, stating their relationship in the simplest way possible.

"Was that the man you were working with?" Dorothy asks, recalling the only man working to serve out food.

Beckett grins, looking down at her hands shyly. "Yeah, that's him. He's something."

Nodding, the older woman begins to gather her things. "So, you aren't engaged?"

She shakes her head, a bit taken aback. "No, not yet," she settles on.

Dorothy smiles with understanding, standing up. "Well, you two make a lovely couple. I hope to see you around again." The brunette stands up with her. "I hope to see you again as well," she replies, a bit surprised at how much she told the woman.

At that time, Castle walks out of the kitchen, looking for Beckett. Finally, the writer sees her standing and talking with the older woman and makes his way over to them. He nudges Beckett's shoulder lightly to get her attention. "You ready to go?" he asks, smiling at the woman before turning to look at his partner.

"Yeah," she answers, holding his hand. "This is Dorothy, by the way."

He puts out his right hand. "I'm Rick. Nice to meet you," he responds with a wide smile.

Dorothy returns the gesture and smiles, telling him, "I hope to see the two of you around" before excusing herself. Leaving the smiling couple, she walks out onto the dark street and cheerfully mutters, "What a cute couple. I hope they make it."


	18. Day 18

**Day 18**

**Author's Note: So for the last chapter, would you guys prefer a New Year's chapter or a Christmas Day chapter?**

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It's a quiet night, the prospect of snow drifting over the still-busy city. Inside a loft, two individuals curl up on the couch, flipping through channels. "Anything good on?" the brunette asks, toes curled.

He shakes his head. "Not that I know of," the man answers, one arm around her, the other pressing buttons on the remote.

"Check the DVR," she suggests, an idea in her head. He looks down at her, her head nestled against his shoulder.

"Beckett, do you have something you want to watch?" the writer asks, teasing.

Beckett shrugs as much as she can while pressed against him. "Maybe. Give me the remote," she commands, pleased as he hands it over (even though it's reluctant).

Typing in the channel number, she smiles as the title 'Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer' flashes in a blue box at the top of the screen. Able to recognize the opening scene, she smiles and silently rejoices that she can watch it from the beginning.

"Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer?" he asks, a chuckle on his voice.

"Castle, you can't possibly tell me that you don't like 'Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer'," she exclaims, turning to look at him.

He thinks, trying to find the right words. "It's not that I don't like it, it's just not my favourite."

Beckett holds back a gasp and an onslaught of comments, finally asking a simple, "Why?"

Again, Castle thinks, rubbing circles on her back with his thumb as he does. "I'm not quite sure. It just never really caught my attention. Why do you like it?" he asks.

"Do you want to hear the long or short version?" she asks, sighing.

He pretends to ponder his decision. "The long one, of course."

Pressing pause on the TV remote, she begins her story. "I first saw it when I was a little kid, maybe six or seven. I absolutely loved it. I thought that Rudolph and Clarice were an adorable couple, I got really upset when people shunned Rudolph, and I nearly cried when Rudolph got knocked out towards the end," she states. "I was quite emotional while watching it. Or so I heard from my parents later on."

"Aw, the makings of a little fangirl. How cute!" he comments, earning a jab to the ribs from his partner. "I wasn't making fun, I promise!" he reassures, dramatically rubbing his side.

"As I was saying," she continues, giving a quick and pointed glare. "I watched it every single time it was on from there on. My parents recorded it on the VCR. I watched it even in high school, although I'd usually pick my friends over watching it live and watch the tape later if I needed to," the brunette remembers. "Once my mom died, it was the only holiday tradition I kept from when we were a family. It made me feel like I was home. So yeah, I want to watch it," Beckett finishes, looking back up at him for a response.

He smiles, pushing the play button on the remote. "Well, if it's something from Little Beckett's childhood, I don't think I'd want to miss that," he responds, "And-"

"Shh!" She yells, cutting him off by pushing a finger to his lips. "I'm trying to watch TV."


	19. Day 19

**Day 19**

**Author's Note: Forgot to post this yesterday... whoops. Another chapter coming in a few hours.**

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Presents rest under the tree, three stockings filled to the brim with treats. His mother is out for the rest of the night; his daughter happily asleep at one in the morning. It's been six or seven years since she last believed, his daughter now a brilliant tenth grader, but he likes seeing the surprise she still gets from the 'magically' appearing presents.

He sits on the couch for a minute, resting his eyes before making the french toast for Christmas morning. It should have been done earlier, yes. But he was working with Beckett until the 22nd, and with all the extra stuff to do he had put off, he had completely forgotten.

After a minute, he opens his eyes with a sigh and finds himself in his living room, surrounded by family. "Hello?" he asks, looking at another version of himself, a beaming smile on his face. The other Castle doesn't respond to him, cheerfully talking with his mother about something or another. He can't really tell.

He turns around to look in the kitchen and finds Beckett standing at the counter, pulling out some wine and laughing. _Beckett_? He thinks, doing a double take at the sight of her. It's her alright, with slightly longer hair.

After putting the bottle in the wine rack, she makes her way over with three glasses, handing one to his mother, one to him, and keeping one for herself. They chat for a minute or so before his other self whispers something in her ear. Laughing, she kisses him, his hands moving around her waist to play with the edges of her hair before breaking away.

His mother comments something, making her look down at her feet with blushing cheeks. Confused, Castle shakes his head. _I must have fallen asleep,_ he decides. Blinking furiously, he tries to wake up.

After opening his eyes a second time, he finds himself in his bedroom, or theirs, as it looks like. Other him lays under the luxurious covers, a drowsy Beckett in his arms. Again he speaks to her and she smiles, puling her left hand out from under the covers to reveal a bright, shining ring.

His heart leaps at the thought of it, him and Beckett getting married. _That's completely unrealistic,_ one part of him thinks. The other likes the scenario.

And the part that likes it is much, much bigger.

Even more confused, he watches as they fall asleep in each other's arms, her hair fanning over his shoulder as she uses it as a pillow. She gives a content sigh, pulling him closer. Once they're asleep (he feels like leaving before they were asleep would wake them up, even if he couldn't be seen), Castle blinks furiously to get back to the present.

He finds himself in his living room, light streaming through the windows and five stockings hanging on the fireplace. _Oh god_, he thinks, brushing a hand through his hair in surprise. _That must mean-_

His thoughts are interrupted by a little girl running down the stairs, hair a mess of light curls. Most notably, she has bright green eyes. The child stops at the tree in surprise, squealing and running very quickly into her parents' room.

After a few minutes, out comes other him and Beckett, both of them a bit older now. Other him laughs, being dragged along by the tiny brunette.

The four year old lets go of his hand and rushes immediately to the presents, her parents scolding her lightly. And for a second, he longs for a little kid in the house, bringing loads of energy to the holidays. He can imagine having more kids.

With Beckett as their mother.

Castle sits straight up on the couch, shaking his head. Abruptly, he gets up and checks his bedroom and upstairs for signs of unexpected life. It's a relief to him when he finds none but finds it sad as well.

After making another secret sweep of the house, he sits back on the couch, remembering his dream.

And that's when it hits him. He has feelings for her: real feelings. It's not just about writing books or trying to seduce her anymore. It's real now. And it probably has been for a couple months.

Leaning his head back against the couch, he sighs and mutters, "2011 should be an interesting year."


	20. Day 20

**Day 20**

**Author's Note: I'll stop with the dreams... sometime...**

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She drifts through the streets, glumly looking at window displays. Cold wind whips around her, forcing her to close her jacket tighter around herself. It's been months since he's held her as she walked, shielding her from unpleasant temperatures.

Unable to bear the ice anymore, she steps inside a bookstore. Beckett looks around, happy to see a coffee shop in the corner. She steps in line behind three ladies around her age, two blondes and a red-head.

They chatter loudly, and she gives into the temptation to hear what they're saying. At this point, ignoring them is more of a hassle than listening.

"Sad that he had to die," the tallest one comments, purse in hand. Beckett gives a silent sigh. The last thing she wants to do is hear about death. "I hope the family isn't still grieving during the holidays."

Looking down at her watch, the detective realizes that it is, in fact, the holiday season. It's December fifteenth.

One of the other women nods. "And with a baby on the way. I feel bad for the kid, growing up and not knowing who his or her dad is," she comments, shaking her head.

Beckett looks down at her own rounded stomach, the proof of life finally showing up under her loose coat. She hadn't expected it, not really. But now, she couldn't imagine not having the baby. She didn't know that she wanted it until it was growing legs and arms and a head.

The red-head moves up slightly in line, still facing her friends. "You know," she says with a laugh on her voice. "Everyone thought he'd end up getting killed following around his detective wife, not in a car crash." The other two chuckle lightly and quietly, finishing their conversation. Beckett takes it all in. They're talking about her and Castle.

They're talking about him.

The line seems suffocating but too empty at that point, the love of her life not at her side for her to lean on when she's tired but still wants the flavor of coffee. He's not there to insist on paying. He's not there. He's not here. He's not anywhere.

He's gone, she remembers, eyes brimming with tears as she curses her stupid hormones. The baby kicks in reassurance, giving her something to distract herself with.

However, the distraction doesn't last long as one of the blondes raises her voice again, stating, "At least he's selling more books now. He was popular before. But now, nobody can get enough of his stuff. I guess that's how it works with all artists though, right?" she asks, not caring.

Beckett wants to punch her in the face. But because that's quite impolite, she only announces, "Excuse me, it's your turn in line," with a quiver in her voice. The group turns around to see her sorry state and moves up to place their order, apologizing.

For what, she doesn't know.

Finally she gets her vanilla decaf coffee and tries to sip it at a table in the window, observing the snowfall. But her thoughts get in the way, and she can't sit alone without remembering him, needing him.

She makes sure the cover is on her drink tightly before stepping out into the streets and walking towards the loft. She doesn't want to celebrate the holidays, she knows that. But he was the one who convinced her to celebrate four years ago. And now, shouldn't she honor him by celebrating in style? No matter what she thinks, it always leads back to the fact that Castle is never coming back.

She bolts up from her warm pillow, her sleepy state immediately cringing at the sudden temperature change. Looking down, she remembers that she really is pregnant.

And Castle's side of the bed is still cold.


	21. Day 21

**Day 21**

**Author's Note: The apocalypse may not be happening, but somebody is blasting Gangnam Style. And no, it's not me. **

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"Are you going to come over tonight?" he whispers in her ear, placing the travel mug of coffee on her desk.

She squints an eye, thinking. "Wasn't planning on it," Beckett answers, testing her coffee.

Pouting, he whines, "But Beckett, you have to!"

The detective raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms. "And why do I have to?" she asks, suspicious.

"Because..." he starts, looking around. "It's the apocalypse tomorrow, and if we all die, I want you to be with me."

She smiles, trying not to laugh. "That's sweet, but the apocalypse isn't going to happen. It's just the end of the Mayan calendar," Beckett states factually, returning to her work.

Dramatically, he gasps. "Just the end of the calendar? Well then, why didn't they end it at the end of a month? Why in the middle?" Castle questions, leaning against her desk.

"They ran out of room," she replies sarcastically, eyes focused on the computer monitor.

"You think you're so funny, don't you," he mutters, looking at the floor. "Can you please stay?" he asks again, almost begging.

She finally looks over at him, sighing. "You're really worried the world might end, aren't you?"

Shrugging, he responds, "Better safe than sorry." With a nod, she answers, "Okay then. I'll be there," smiling as he immediately perks up.

Nearly bouncing out of his seat, he smiles widely. "Good," he says, jumping up out of his seat and towards the elevators.

"Where are you going?" she calls, watching him enter the elevator.

"You'll see," he tells her, the doors closing.

It's a quiet ten minutes before he comes back up with a large bag. "What is that?" she asks, pushing her chair away from the desk and standing up.

He drags the sack to his chair, opening it to reveal dozens of wrapped presents. "They're gifts to help you survive the apocalypse. Most of them are giant packs of food with survival books or post-apocalyptic radios, but we've got a few other things in here too," he answers, proud of his efforts. "You want to help me distribute them?"

She shakes her head. "I want absolutely nothing to do with this," Beckett answers.

"You will when everyone loves the gifts," he retorts childishly.

"I won't when Gates kicks you out."

Castle shakes his head. "I have something for her too. I'm completely and utterly prepared!" he exclaims, pulling out various boxes.

"You're very excited about this," she notes, shaking her head.

He nods, giddy. "I am."

The detective laughs, her arms crossed. "Tone it down a little before some suspects come in and make fun of you," she jokes.

Smiling wider, he chuckles and says, "Okay."


	22. Day 22

**Day 22**

**Author's Note: I really can't believe how close Christmas is.**

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The first candy cane sits on her desk, wrapped in a tiny red ribbon. Confused, she looks around, trying to find anyone who would be near her seat. Normally, the first person she would expect would be Castle, but he had yet to come in.

"Espo, did you see who put this on my desk?" she asks firmly, holding up the candy cane.

He looks up from his work (or maybe it's a game of some sorts). "Nah, but I don't think it was there before you went to that meeting either. Why?"

Beckett shrugs, placing the object next to one of her elephants. "Just curious," she responds, sitting back down. "You didn't get one?" she questions again.

"Didn't get what?" Ryan asks, placing files on her desk.

Immediately, she holds up the red and white striped thing. "Any idea who gave this to me?"

The Irish detective thinks, poking the ribbon. "Castle, maybe?"

She shakes her head. "No, he hasn't been here today. Went to go get something for Christmas, I think he said," Beckett answers, twirling it in her fingers.

"I don't know, then," he responds, heading back to his own desk. "But when you find out, tell me."

Sighing, she places the sweet back on her desk, finding it more interesting than the papers in the folder.

-0-0-0-0-0-

The next morning they get a body, so going into the precinct happens a bit earlier than normal. But when she gets there, another wrapped candy cane sits on the desk, this time in a green ribbon. Turning on her heels, she walks briskly towards Castle and asks, "Do you know where this came from?"

He looks at it for a second before replying. "No, I can't say I do."

Unimpressed, the detective huffs and sets up the murder board. "Are you sure you didn't see anybody?" she asks, placing things on the board.

With a shake of his head, he walks over to her. "I didn't see anyone."

Beckett sighs and places the candy cane back on her desk, just realizing that she's still holding it. That night she sits in her apartment examining the two candy canes before she falls asleep.

-0-0-0-0-

The next candy cane doesn't arrive until four the next afternoon after she goes to the bathroom. From the door she can already see the shiny wrapper on her desk, glimmering slightly under the ceiling lights.

Castle, Ryan, and Esposito crowd around Ryan's computer, watching something. She hopes it's something about the case.

In reality, it probably isn't, as now they're waiting for uniforms to pick up their suspect.

"What are you doing?" she asks, picking up the candy on the way to the desk.

"Taking a break," Ryan responds, not looking up from the computer screen. The video is some sort of holiday prank, where a guy dresses up as a Target employee and tries to 'help' customers. Beckett doesn't quite find it funny but watches it anyways.

Once the video ends, she asks, "Should I be worried about the candy canes?"

Esposito shakes his head. "Why would you be?" If you don't want to eat them, nobody cares," the Latino answers, typing in the name of another video.

Ryan nods in agreement. "Yeah, you're thinking too much."

The brunette looks to her partner for encouragement, still suspicious. "I think they'll be fine," he reassures.

Shrugging, she unwraps the wrapper and eats the candy cane.

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Another one appears the next morning. With a smile, she takes it and puts it in her coat pocket without a second thought. Beckett finds she doesn't mind the small gifts, seeing no harm with them.

It's a slow and boring day, the previous case already closed. To top it off, Castle decides early in the morning that he needs a day to write, so she's stuck here without any source of unintended entertainment.

She finds herself rather excited to leave and go see her partner that night, the cellophane crinkling as she warms her hands in her pockets. Finally she gets to the loft, and he welcomes her inside excitedly.

"What are you hiding?" she teases, noticing the fact that his left hand rests behind his back. He presses a finger to his lips.

"It's a secret," he jokes, watching as she kicks off her shoes.

Beckett gives a fake frown, moving closer to him. "Isn't it for me?" she asks.

Nodding, he pulls out a candy cane wrapped in ribbon exactly like the others. "Thought I should tell you before you go crazy with curiosity," the writer jokes.

She presses her lips to his, enjoying the warmth. "I would have figured out eventually," she responds, taking the candy cane from his hands with a smile.

"Yeah, that's why I stopped after three days. It's so much more fun to tell you than have you guess until it's right, in this situation. Or at least, I think so," he comments, chuckling.

Beckett looks up at him, straight-faced. "Three days?"


	23. Day 23

**Day 23**

**Author's Note: Strong K (plus) warning for this one for the beginning, I guess. And it's not too late to get your name on the lovely list of people that reviewed!**

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"Castle, there is no way I am wearing that awful sweater," she says sternly, grimacing.

"But you have to," he pouts, holding up the tacky piece of material. "It's the theme of the party. I'm wearing mine."

She's already aware of that, for the sweater he's wearing is absolutely horrendous. Yet somehow, he manages to pull off the ugly tan color complimented by neon green Christmas trees. And to top it all off, it lights up.

Beckett groans. "I can tell," she responds, pacing the room.

He shrugs and pulls out a smaller piece of material. "It's not a sweater, just a scarf, but you could wear this."

Picking it up, she examines it carefully. At first it looks like a perfectly good accessory. But then she realizes. "Castle, what the hell are the reindeer doing?" she asks loudly, throwing it back at him.

The writer catches it, hands up in surrender. "Okay, the scarf is out. But really. Everyone else will be wearing these."

With a sigh, she picks up the sweater. "Fine."

It's worse than his, she thinks. The overall style reminds her of Where's Waldo's shirt: a baggy red and white striped turtleneck. But it's the felt gingerbread men that make it stand out. And they sparkle.

She pulls it over her head, the pockets flopping. Castle grins once it's on, pulling out his iPhone. "Can we take a picture?" he asks, opening the camera app.

The doorbell rings, and Beckett takes the welcome opportunity to avoid the shutter of the camera. The party is supposed to be relatively small, just friends and their families. So it's no surprise when Ryan and Jenny show up, decked out to the max.

Castle comes up behind his partner as his first guests come in, giving Castle a bottle of wine. "I love this place," Jenny comments, looking at all the decorations. "Did you help decorate, Kate?" she asks, entranced by the Christmas tree.

The brunette shakes her head. "Not really, no. Castle knows how to do it better than I do," she answers, laughing.

"Ah, decorating this year took forever. And we have half the decorations as Rick!" Jenny shakes her head. "Do you know where this tree is from? It's absolutely gorgeous."

Confused, Beckett points to the writer. "You're better off asking him."

"What?" he asks, noticing the women talking about him.

Casually, the detective gestures towards the tree with her head. "She was asking about the monstrous thing you somehow managed to get into the loft."

With mock annoyance, he responds, "My tree is not a monster! Just for that, you don't get my official tree tour."

"I thought you'd like a monster-"

Beckett gets cut off with the ding of the doorbell. "I'll get it," Castle announces, quickly trying to excuse himself from the conversation.

Placing her hand on his elbow, Beckett smiles. "I can answer the door for a while. You talk, finish setting things up."

He looks at her facial expression closely before finally accepting, seeing that she really wants to great people. "Thanks."

The word is acknowledged with a nod before she rushes to the door and turns the deadbolt. "Girl, what are you doing answering the door?" Lanie immediately asks, stepping inside the threshold wearing a rather tasteful elf sweater and hat.

She shrugs. "Castle wasn't done setting up. Maybe you could help since you're actually early for once," she sasses, mocking Lanie's habit of being twenty minutes late to everything besides a crime scene. She's also not completely in the mood for the inevitable squealing from her best friend about how domestic the whole thing is.

The medical examiner turns and walks towards Castle, who stands at the kitchen counter lining up food. "Apparently, you don't want to talk," she calls back to her.

Knowing she can't win whatever discussion they were starting, the brunette makes a face but stays silent, eagerly opening the door for the next person.

Over time the party grows larger and larger, people pouring in. During the first few moments, she worries about how she'll do with everyone around. But it almost reminds her of the fun of High School, and with that feeling in her she almost forgets that she doesn't really like doing it. (She doesn't manage to forget about the sweater, though.)

She's actually enjoying it, greeting people.

"Hey, you don't have to stand at the door anymore. Pretty much everyone is here," Castle reminds the detective, sneaking up behind her.

She shrugs. "I kind of like it here."

The writer pulls her towards him, his hands firm around her waist. Beckett responds by putting her arms around neck with a grin. "But there's so much other stuff to do! You could dance or play trivia or get food," he whines, unfazed by their more intimate position. "There's marshmallows to roast in the fireplace!"

The brunette grimaces, looking behind her partner. "Speaking of mashmallows-"

"They're all on the floor, aren't they?" He asks, lost in her concerned green eyes.

Wait, why would she be so concerned?

She wiggles nervously, breaking away from his arms. "Well, yeah, but they're on fire."

"Great."


	24. Day 24

**Day 24**

**Author's Note: Merry Christmas Eve! Last chapter up tomorrow. **

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The stockings hang on the fireplace, filled with presents. Under the tree are larger boxes wrapped in shiny bows. It's dark besides the twinkling Christmas lights, moving shadows of two people putting the finishing touches on things.

"I still don't understand why you had to wear the Santa suit," Beckett comments, leaning against the wall as her husband places the final present.

He stands up, the fluffy white beard rubbing against the branches. "If Wyatt came downstairs, it'd be much easier to explain to him. But looks like we're in the clear."

Grinning, she inches closer to him. "Mm, yeah, I guess," she answers, biting her lip.

Castle pulls her into his arms. "Why Beckett, is the Santa suit doing it for you?"

Jokingly, she shrugs. "Maybe it is. That a problem?"

"No, no, not at all," he responds, eyes dark as he leans in to kiss her.

"Mommy, what are you doing?" A little boy asks from the stairs, bouncing. "Is that Santa?" he realizes with a screech.

Beckett gives a quick glare. "This is your fault," she mutters, turning to their son. "Wyatt, why are you up?"

"Why were you kissing Santa?" he asks, trying to run down the stairs.

She rushes over to him, picking him up and bringing him into the living room. "I wasn't," she defends, rubbing his sleep-ruffled hair. "I was just helping him."

The three year old looks confused, but eventually buys the excuse. "Where's daddy?" he asks next, looking around the room.

"In the, um-" she pauses and looks around. "Bathroom. He had to go to the bathroom."

Wyatt bounces in her arms. "Can I talk to Santa, mommy?" he questions, trying to kick away from her. Castle's eyes widen and he shakes his head.

"Um, Santa has to get going now and give other kids toys," she answers, using her foot to kick the brown sack on the floor towards him. Castle gratefully takes it, nodding at the boy with a smile.

"Santa, can you go through the chimney?" the little boy asks with a lisp.

Knowing Kate can't get him out of this one without more questions from their kid, he tries to to disguise his voice the best he can. "I'm just going to go through the door," he responds in a low-pitched tone. "It's, um, quicker."

Crossing his arms, the little boy pouts in a way that looks just like his father. "I want to see you go through the chimney!" he yells.

Beckett adjusts him in her arms, walking back towards the stairs. "Wyatt, you're going back to bed now. You're being rude, and Santa needs to go."

Sleepily, the boy whines, "But Daddy didn't see Santa."

With a sigh, she replies, "He saw him before. I promise." The detective hugs her son closer to her, mouthing to Castle to take off the suit. And then glares at him for having a dirty mind when he smirks.

He pretends to walk to towards the door, sneaking back into their bedroom as soon as the two are up the stairs. The two adults meet moments later back in the living room, Beckett running a hand through her hair. "You're going to pay for that," she comments, shaking her head.

"In what way?" he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

She slaps his arm lightly. "Wyatt wants to talk to you."

"Okay," he responds, nodding and starting up the stairs. Once at the top, he turns around and says, "We did it, didn't we?"

She nods, looking tired but smiling nevertheless. "We pulled it off this time."


	25. Day 25

**Day 25**

**Author's Note: First, let's give a big shout-out to everyone who reviewed: lkwill39, -mouse, athrynkay, NCISchick, I-Am-My-Own-Biggest-Mystery, someheartslove, castlesandramatthews, obsessedwithCastle, xx-regina-phalange-xx, Christy811, HGKatniss, and all the anons! I survived writing this, I guess. Now, onto the last chapter. Thank you for reading.**

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They're not together the whole party, as he decides he wants to make the rounds and say hello to everybody he knows, which is about half of the 200 person group. They've been here since eight, the rumors already starting about why or why not they've come together. It's quite tiring and distracting, hearing the constant whispers.

She turns her focus back to the woman she's been talking to, a quieter lady about her age, maybe a bit younger. From what she's learned so far, she's engaged to some famous Broadway actor she knows Martha would remember the name of. Yet the woman herself, Andrea, she recalls, works with an engineering company.

"I don't think anyone expected us to get together," Andrea comments, swishing her wine in the glass. "But I guess that's similar with you and Rick, correct? I mean you are together...?" she trails off, awkwardly posing her question.

Beckett nods, laughing. "Yeah, I sure didn't expect it. Of course, I had read his books, but never in my imagination did I think I'd have a relationship with him."

"I had admired my fiancee in when he performed in shows. It was expensive, of course, but I never missed one. And then we bumped into each other at a restaurant, started talking, and things happened from there," the blonde recalls. "I guess we are similar."

The detective nods at the man walking up behind her, as if pointing. "Is that him?" she asks, giving him a smile.

Andrea turns around, grinning. "Yup, that's Joseph." She stands up, resting a hand on the crook of his elbow. "Joseph, this is Kate," she introduces.

"Ah, you're with Rick, right?" he asks, shaking her hand politely. "We were just talking about how you two would get along well."

Smiling, Beckett responds, "Yes, well it seems that neither of us are very good at these parties."

Nodding in agreement, Andrea kisses her fiancee's cheek after seeing his forlorn expression. "I don't mind them, they just get tiring after a while," she tells him hoping to cheer him up.

"I know how that feels," a voice responds from behind them, and Beckett looks behind her to find Castle moving towards her side. "I see you've met Andrea!" he comments, smiling at her.

"She may or may not be the most interesting part of the party," she jokes.

"Was that supposed to be an insult? Because I'll have you know-"

"There's now two minutes until midnight! Get ready to welcome the year of 2013," The DJ announces, cutting Castle off mid-sentence.

The writer looks towards the window. "Come on, we've got to get a good spot!" he blurts, waving goodbye to Joseph and Andrea politely. Beckett gives a sheepish grin and waves to them as well, swiftly being pulled through the crowd of people.

Others gather near the wall of windows, looking out into the night. At first, she has no idea why anyone cares, but then realizes that you can clearly see the New Year's ball ready to drop. "You can ring in the New Year with millions of others," he comments, pointing to the distance. "But it's much more comfortable here. One of the reasons I keep coming to this party."

The DJ announces something about there being a minute left in 2012. Beckett turns to him, eyes bright. "Ready?" she asks, looking deeply into his eyes.

"No secrets this year," he reminds her, turning to face her. "Except for presents."

Beckett laughs, trying to hide her wide smile. The year had started with them keeping secrets from each other and ended with them keeping secrets from others. At midnight, they'd stop keeping their relationship a secret. "No secrets," she answers, her arms wrapping around his neck.

He looks down at her lips. "No regrets."

In the background, she hears people counting down the seconds until the New Year. With one last glance at the giant crystal ball, she pulls him close to her, kissing him into another year.

Before he can get in some sort of bad joke, she echoes through the cheering crowd, "No regrets."


End file.
